


For all that you are

by the_pen_is_mightier



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soft Aziraphale, Softness, They love each other, aziraphale is self-conscious about his belly, belly kisses, crowley is self-conscious about his eyes, more ace-friendly belly kisses bc I'm Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 00:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21244871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pen_is_mightier/pseuds/the_pen_is_mightier
Summary: They've both internalized some shame over time about how they look. But when they're with each other, that shame is far away.





	For all that you are

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @ineffablefool for getting me on the soft Aziraphale belly-kiss grind. 
> 
> This may be the last fic I post in a while; NaNoWriMo is starting soon, and I'll have to pull a lot of my focus from fanfic. Rest assured if you don't hear from me, I'll be back again in full force come December! 
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for all your love and support <3 I appreciate you all so much

The world outside is bright, harsh sunlight glaring off reflective surfaces, flinging itself heedlessly into people’s eyes as though determined to be admired. But in a small flat that stands above a bookshop, in a little room that looks out onto the street, the curtains are drawn, and the occupants are surrounded by soft dimness. 

“Gabriel used to like these kind of days the best,” Aziraphale says. “He said when the sun is this bright sin can’t hide anywhere.” 

Crowley snorts. “He didn’t really say that.”

“He _did._” 

“Pfft.” Crowley shifts his position somewhat, getting more comfortable. “You know, we liked these days down in Hell, too - when it’s really sunny you can almost feel a trace of warmth down there. Best a demon gets in that department.” 

“Not this demon,” says Aziraphale. 

Crowley is snuggled up next to Aziraphale in bed, head on his chest, sunk deep into his embrace with Aziraphale’s arm around him. He lifts his chin slightly and turns his head to give Aziraphale a proper smile. “No. Not this one.”

In this place, Crowley has all the warmth he could ever ask for. Crowley can’t remember ever feeling as cozy, as safe, right down to his bones, to the tips of his fingers and toes, as he does at this moment. 

Aziraphale grows somber for a moment. “I never liked these days. I never thought being seen completely was such a good thing, myself.” 

Crowley turns his face to look into Aziraphale’s eyes again. His eyebrow lifts. “What do you mean?” 

Absently Aziraphale rubs his hand over the wide curve of his belly. “I don’t look like a soldier, I mean.” 

Crowley grumbles. “You look perfect, angel.” 

Aziraphale reaches out to stroke Crowley’s hair, then move his hand downward to cup his cheek. “I know you think so. Still, I quite like it, sometimes, when you’re the _only_ one who sees all of me.” 

“Hmmm.” 

“I can trust you to see beauty in me, you see. It’s not something I’d entrust to just anyone.” 

Crowley shakes with a quiet laugh. Then he slithers down toward Aziraphale’s belly, pushing up his soft tartan sleep shirt to press a loving kiss into the yielding middle of it. His lips are gentle, tender - like a different, less harsh kind of sunlight. Like something healing. A second kiss follows the first, and then a third, as though Crowley can’t help himself, as though he’s drawn back and back to Aziraphale’s softness like a moth to light. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers. “You are good, my dear.” 

Crowley grumbles something else. 

“No, I won’t have you objecting.” Aziraphale cups Crowley’s cheek again, turning his face upward. The start of a frown tugs at the bottom of Crowley’s mouth. “You’re so kind to me. You’re so sweet.” 

“M’not -”

“You _are._” Aziraphale is earnest. “You’re the best person I know. And I won’t ever let you forget it.” 

Crowley sighs and his head sinks down to pillow on Aziraphale’s newly-bared belly. It’s nice, the weight of Crowley’s head. 

“I didn’t like these days either,” he says quietly. “Just more work to cover up my eyes.” 

Aziraphale smiles. Gently he pulls Crowley up from his belly so they’re eye-to-eye again, and takes Crowley’s face in both his hands, cradling it. He lets his blue eyes sink deep into Crowley’s golden, slitted ones. Until he feels he’s drowning in the starlight depths of them.

“I hope you trust me,” he says softly, “to see the beauty in your eyes, as well.” 

Crowley looks lost for words. 

“Because they’re enchanting.” He draws Crowley in, closer, closer, and Crowley shuts his eyes and sighs as Aziraphale presses twin kisses to his eyelids. They’re yielding under his lips, accepting. Crowley still wears his sunglasses out in the world, but here, with Aziraphale, they almost never appear. Crowley is content to let himself be seen. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale murmurs, letting Crowley cuddle close to him again. “For all that you are.”

“Me too.” Crowley buries his face once more in Aziraphale’s belly. “For all of you.” 

The sun is bright and harsh outside, but the two of them, in this flat above a bookshop, are sheltered from it. The lights for them are dim, and they are each other’s refuge.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my content? Find me on Tumblr @[whatawriterwields](https://whatawriterwields.tumblr.com)!


End file.
